


shuffle me

by venus woman and giant saurian (grayglube)



Series: season of kink 2019 [3]
Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Season of Kink, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 01:56:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayglube/pseuds/venus%20woman%20and%20giant%20saurian
Summary: "We're not doing that," she tells him.
Relationships: Kate Fuller/Richard Gecko
Series: season of kink 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534892
Kudos: 27
Collections: Season of Kink





	shuffle me

**Author's Note:**

> for the kink meme prompt "masturbation"

It’s like she’s never seen a cock before.

In the middle of the charnel house mess he can’t help himself and she gapes before she turns away.

“What are you _doing?_” she hisses.

He laughs a little, lightly, head spinning, just a little woozy.

“Keeping my hands warm.”

The punctuation of slapping skin makes her shoulders bunch.

“Don’t act like an animal.”

“Don’t be such a prude.”

She snorts.

“Come on Katie-Cakes, just give me a second.”

…

She stands over him in her knee length dress that’s too long for him to look up and puts her bloody sneaker on the inside of his thigh, presses, and makes him groan, her untender eyes glare down and he curls a hand around her slim little ankle.

“Hey,” he starts to say.

“What?” she cuts off.

“Put your hand under your dress.”

She only steps down harder on his thigh.

He licks his lips and her eyes track down.

“I could put mine there,” he offers instead.

She grimaces.

“Or not,” he adds, letting his head fall back.

…

Her hands around his throat are warm, calloused, once deadly things.

Straddled over his leg she doesn’t begin to rock like he’d like her too and when he presses up with a knee she shifts up and lets her grip go slack.

“We’re not doing that,” she tells him.

“Next time, maybe,” he answers, his breathe against her collarbone.

“Don’t bet on it,” she mutters, letting her fingers tighten until he chokes.

“You shouldn’t be so scared of yourself, it’s perfectly natural,” he grounds out before he coughs.

She laughs as his voice cuts out. “There’s nothing natural about this,” she tells him, knees grinding patterns in on blood covered floor.

…

When he cums on her dress she doesn’t even flinch, its hemline already soaked through with red leaves lines across her thighs when she stands.

He reaches for her, his cock softening against his slacks, completely fucked out.

“Hey, thanks,” he says, holding onto one of her tiny fingers.

“We have to go,” she answers, starting to turn.

“I mean it.”

She doesn’t look at him, taking him in, like a breath.

“I know," she tells him. "Put you dick away.”

He smirks, cleans himself up enough to rise and follow her out.

* * *

It’s hard to wash the blood away, to be clean again, but not really.

She breathes in steam and it’s hard not to think about feeling him swallow tightly against her palms or the color of his eyes.

It’s routine to take the showerhead down from above her head and delay what happens next, the ritual of washing her hair and rinsing down her limbs before making she makes her feet dance and her hips twitch forward.

…

He doesn’t care if his suit gets wet, he ruins it more thoroughly.

Nothing is private in small rooms or warehouse accommodations, not even _this_.

Her breath hitches at how their proximity makes her press the insistent spray closer to herself, makes her cunt jump forward.

He crowds her, not touching, not really.

She relents, puts her head on his chest, bites one of his suit buttons with her hair dripping around her chin.

He pushes back her head with a palm on her brow.

“We’re not doing that,” he tells her, smirking, taking a step back and pressing a wet shoulder against the wall.

She sags back against her own, lifts the shower head and sprays him in the face.

“That’s not ni-…” he begins to say before she raises her wrist and sprays him again. 

“Cute,” he jokes, wiping his face.

She turns it towards herself, makes herself warm again, spraying down her front, watching him stare.

“You’re going to waste all the hot water if you keep teasing yourself like that.”

It's not teasing, not to her not when it takes less than a minute if she’s really trying.

It's less mess than his orgasms, before and after.

She hands him the shower head to hang back above her and lets him dry her limbs, wrap her in his own robe, and ignores the impression of possession it instills.

…

“You wanna cuddle?” he asks, tilting his head as he considers her.

She laughs on her way to her room as he puddles in the hallway.


End file.
